


IDK you yet

by PetuniaViolet



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst with no clear ending, M/M, Songfic, Yearning, based on an animated, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetuniaViolet/pseuds/PetuniaViolet
Summary: Based on a beautiful animatic made by @meowsteryy on Twitter!(link is inside)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	IDK you yet

**Author's Note:**

> Please watch the animatic for more context: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoSSv8fYBDQ
> 
> For @meowsteryy on twitter!! Please go check her out if you haven't, she's really talented and I'm so embarrassed I wrote this because I don't think it's good enough. 
> 
> Alas, I was having feelings about her animatic so I had to do it to them anyway.
> 
> Try to enjoy <3 Don't forget to check her animatic first!! For context

_How can you miss someone you've never met?  
'Cause I need you now but I don't know you yet  
But can you find me soon because I'm in my head?  
Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet_

Richie has constantly felt as if something was missing.

But he never realized he was yearning for someone. Richie’s frustration about this inconvenient feeling wasn’t clear to anyone’s eyes, he kept it to himself as if it was a dirty secret of his own.

Richie’s smoking breaks usually left him alone with his thoughts—that was never a good thing, he resented himself for it. His mind would wander, dissipated in memories he couldn’t retrieve, seeking to catch a glimpse of a clue to solve the mindful problem.

Richie’s clever side tried to persuade him to stop smoking—but he found himself craving for it more than ever, inwardly hoping he’d come up with a solution and move on. Always pondering about it.

He was considering quitting. Smoking can cause a lot of health issues, right? Richie acknowledged this and thinking about his well-being (which sadly, was something Richie ignored nowadays) unlocked _him_ within Richie’s mind.

A nagging voice, oddly young, echoed through his mind. Richie couldn’t see his face lucidly enough to recognize, but the brown, soft hair, the furrowed caterpillar eyebrows, and pursed lips from clear annoyance all staring at him made him jolt.

_“Hey, Richie?”_

It faded as fast as it manifested itself. The boy was gone, and Richie could barely remember how the boy’s voice sounded like.

Steve came to check on him, and Richie lied and went on entertaining a crowd with a fake smile after a smoke break. Everything was fine.

_'Cause lately it's been hard  
They're sellin' me for parts  
And I don't wanna be modern art  
But I only got half a heart to give to you_

Richie liked being famous.

Shit, people enjoying the jokes someone wrote for him sure wasn’t the life he’d envision having. But he was addicted to it. Receiving the admiration of strangers and taking silly photos with fans was the euphoric part of Richie’s life.

The man in a fancy suit ruined one of those days.

It occurred so fast, one second he was waving at a fan and it took Richie to glimpse behind her to see a businessman walking by, talking over the phone as he rushed through the busy streets.

If Steve hadn’t beckoned for him, Richie would’ve run after that man. There was an unusual sense of remembrance, and he thought about that man for the rest of the day. And night. And week.

_How can you miss someone you've never seen?_

Eddie had a favorite place to get his coffee. It was a small place that was empty at the right time, never too crowded and he had formed a somewhat friendly relationship with the worker that prepares his coffee—Jerry. Jerry knew Eddie’s usual, and it was great since Eddie liked his coffee delivered fast so he could go back to work.

Today, Jerry wasn’t there.

Instead, Eddie was faced with a tall, young man with broad shoulders, long dark hair, and square glasses. Eddie’s brain short-circuited for a second as he noticed how the man’s cheeks lightly tinted when he gave him a bashful grin.

“Uh sorry sir, Jerry is sick. I’m new but how may I serve you?”

 _Oh, tell me are your eyes brown, blue, or green?_  
And do you like it with sugar and cream?  
Or do you take it straight, oh, just like me?

Eddie told him his order automatically as he tried to mask his fazed expression, filled with an emotion that he unwillingly defined as nostalgia. He focused on the man’s eyes. They were the same color of someone’s eyes. Someone he did not recall or remember.

Not-Jerry caught Eddie staring at him, and he smiled even widely, welcoming the attention. Eddie noticed that right away, he always does.

“Name, sir?”

_“Eds!!”_

“Uh… your name, sir?”

“It’s Eddie…” he managed to answer as a new voice scampered wildly as fire through his mind, loud and boisterous laughter that could only belong to a young, scrawny boy that Eddie frustratedly didn’t recognize but noticed anyways—the square glasses with the untidy, long hair.

Strangely, he missed that voice as soon as it dissipated.

When Eddie got to his cubicle, he tried to ignore the way his palm burned whenever he took a sip from his coffee—not because of the beverage itself, but because of the smiley face not-Jerry had sketched next to his name.

_Yeah, lately it's been hard They're sellin' me for parts_

Holding the cup in a way he could hide it felt as if Eddie was covering for another of _those_ moments in his life.

From when he held the flowers to place on his mother’s grave, to when he slid the wedding ring on Myra’s finger.

Those flashes in Eddie’s life was when he wished he could’ve used his voice to say something. He was quiet during his mother’s funeral, and he remained soundless when the priest asked if anyone objected to his marriage.

Reluctantly, Eddie never fought back.

He was a smart man. The smiley face meant ‘ask for my number’. And if Eddie was younger and free, he would’ve. But he was married, almost forty-years-old and stable on his perpetual and boring life.

_And I don't wanna be modern art_

He got home late, something Myra never allowed.

Eddie made the mistake of not calling her to give her a heads up about it. As soon as he got home, she chased him around with her concerns about his health while holding her phone close to her chest—probably about to call him for the seventh time.

He let her worry, it was sentimental.

But it also made him miserable.

Myra embraced him and told him she loved him, Eddie felt dizzy and pulled away, manually saying it back before escaping down the hall towards the bathroom, isolating himself from his wife’s concerning eyes and the routine of washing his hands and sitting down for a bland meal that was labeled as healthy.

There was a hole burning in Eddie’s brain and he was trying to put it out by splashing water on his face as he leaned over the sink. This entire distress oddly felt like home, it was an intangible feeling Eddie had been chasing his whole life—without even realizing it.

It was a mistake for Eddie to be alone right now, as soon as he closed his eyes and felt the cold, tap water hit his skin he saw _him_ again. Who?? Eddie had no idea.

_But I only got half a heart to give to you And I hope it's enough_

But he started crying immediately afterward. He watched as a tear dropped in the pool of water in the sink—and abruptly, he was diving inside a murky lake, with no worries about the germs floating around him.

He came up for air.

More kids were there, beaming and laughing with him. They all seem so happy, including himself.

Someone splashed him in the face jokingly— _him_. He did it. Eddie splashed him back with all the joy he could muster.

Eddie was feeling so overwhelmed and distressed, he was having recollections that looked like they belonged to someone else. He sure damn well didn’t recognize these kids, or _him_ —or walking down a hill, leading them safely towards a place— _their hidden place_.

_???_

They were in a circle, holding hands.

Eddie instinctively reaches for his right arm, because he sees himself wearing a cast, and grasping hands with _him_.

Then there’s the hammock memory that hit Eddie too hard.

The boy Eddie keeps seeing, _hearing_ —he was laying on the other side of the hammock from where Eddie was. The boy had his face concealed, much to Eddie’s disappointment.

He was reading a comic book.

But then he got a glimpse, and Eddie opened his eyes to let out a whine from the turmoil he felt that couldn’t belong to him—it felt almost intrusive to be feeling this way about someone he never met.

And yet, Eddie wanted these memories to be only his.

Eddie sits down on the edge of the tub, his heart hammering so fast he almost ached to call Myra from his distressful and sudden wave of melancholic memories. But this was no heart-attack, this was mental.

Why couldn’t he revive these fragments before? He could barely see them now. It was as if they only lasted seconds before they vanished completely.

_How can you miss someone you've never met?_

Richie woke up weeping from yet another dream about the brown-haired boy.

They were in a hammock this time, and Richie had to sit up and take deep breaths to calm down as he tried to hold on to that vague memory that would soon fade away.

_‘Cause I need you now but I don't know you yet_

Eddie mastered crying quietly to avoid Myra’s attention on him while they were laying in bed. He didn’t want her to worry or force him to go see a doctor about it, waking up from crying was something he only started doing recently and he knew he wasn’t physically sick, so the last thing Eddie wanted was to tell his wife he was having what were probably childhood memories of a boy that he doesn’t remember at all.

_But can you find me soon because I'm in my head?_

Too early to wake up, Richie decides to take a sleeping pill and go back to sleep, hoping to have a dreamless rest this time.

_Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet_

Eddie remains in bed, his back turned opposite to Myra, as usual, and stares at the carper with a sad look. He needs him, whoever he is. He had a feeling this boy—this man he yearned for, was his answer. Eddie didn’t want to share this with anyone. This was his feeling, and he was going to protect it as if this stranger was the most important person in the world. He just needed him—

—Richie needed him, he didn’t know him, yet. But he had a feeling these unexpected sentiments weren’t solely random. There must’ve been something in the universe that triggered them—or maybe this was his life now. So depressing, lonely, and pathetic that he finally lost his mind and began making up this sad storyline about a distant prince charming that would rescue him.

_I need you now but I don't know you yet_

Laying in a bed with someone else not always felt like a punishment—Eddie closed his eyes and recalled listening to music, grinning towards the boy as he looked in return expectantly—almost, affectionately???

Richie never liked sleeping alone, he shut his eyes and was relieved to see _him_ again, bathed in a golden, summer sunlight with his doe, brown eyes staring at him in an illuminated expression—serenity, that’s what Richie felt at that moment, laying in that bed and watching him listen to the songs he chose for _him_.

Does he remember??

Even when this kid acted like a brat and kicked him in the face when they shared the dusty hammock, Richie would always find an excuse to touch him. And what’s better than to push his feet away from his face.

And linger his hands on his ankles…

_I need you now but I don't know you yet_

They both didn’t remember at all.

They couldn’t remember when high school arrived, they were more inseparable than ever. The flirting-teasing, hair ruffling, Eddie enjoying walking down the school halls with Richie’s arm secured around his neck, bringing the two close with no space to pull them apart. It was then Eddie felt safe—it was then Richie was eager to actually _live_ , to be around _him_.

_I need you now but I don't know you yet_

The day when they were eventually divided, Richie left a cassette with a playlist for Eddie by his windowsill. The last one Richie would ever make—filled only with love songs.

_I need you now but I don't know you yet_

He didn’t show up to say goodbye that morning.

Eddie heard the playlist as his mother drove them out of Derry—out of Richie’s laughter, touch, friendship, love, eyes, and memory.

Richie cried all day, perching by the Kissing Bridge and lamenting not saying goodbye.

He could vaguely recall it now: of him looking to the blue sky with grief and outrage—and heartbreak. He just lost the love of his life. And he couldn’t even say _goodbye_.

Richie relives sitting on that bridge and crying, so furious with himself that he just leaned back swiftly, hitting the back of his head on the craving he made, with raw frustration.

Richie stirs from hitting his head, alone in his bed. Droplets falling down his eyes again.

He used his hand to conceal his tearful eyes, embarrassed and yet… sad.

He’s tired, Richie needs to find him. No more longing.


End file.
